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“My GPS isn’t saying to do that. More people will have that same thought and use the bypass, which will only make it slower.” I glance over at her. “We’re on the fastest route.”
“Don’t look at me. Listen to me!”
“Lambros,” Hall says in my earpiece, “what’s your status? You showing up late to your boss’s birthday party isn’t a good look when you’re trying to stay in her favor.”
“I’m aware,” I say into the mic sewn into my collared shirt. “We’re coming. Do not let them leave.”
“Don’t be so late that they have to,” Hall says before disconnecting.
Scarlett points directly in front of her. “Just keep going straight at the split up ahead.”
When I set my turn signal to go left, Scarlett visibly reacts. “I can’t handle this. You’re gonna hate me, but I’m doing this for you.”
“What—”
There’s a click and a flash of shiny red as Scarlett unbuckles and gets out of her seat and starts climbing over the middle console. “You’ve left me no choice, Lambros. We’re doing this together.”
She can’t be serious right now.
But then she’s in my lap. She’s serious.
I try very hard to pay attention to the road while being fully—painfully—aware that there’s only a very thin, smooth layer of silk and my suit pants between us.
“Hands at ten and two!” I shout as she presses her high heel over the top of my shoe that’s on the gas pedal. The car jolts forward.
“Like this?” she asks, her hands, instead, at five and seven. It’s like she’s not at all bothered that we’re breaking at least three laws at once.
It’s pointless, but because it feels like the only thing I can control right now, I undo my seat belt and wrap it around her waist, securing us both in. “Have you always been this stubborn?”
Scarlett sighs. “And here I thought you knew me.” She flicks off the left turn signal and speeds straight ahead. “Sorry, Lambros, but we have a boat to catch. I know, I know, we’ll be too busy getting pulled over,” she says in a voice low enough to mimic mine. “But then we wouldn’t get to flash our badges! It’s a win-win.”
I have one hand gripping the grab handle and another on her hip, trying to help keep her steady from slipping around in the silk. We’re minutes away from the harbor. Despite all my protests, we might make it on time.
“You disappeared on me for a whole year, you know,” Scarlett says as she zooms past a truck. “Would’ve been more if I hadn’t gotten subbed in for this op.”
Her words carry weight even though her tone is light.
I grit my teeth. “I know.” I felt every agonizing minute of it.
“You couldn’t text? Couldn’t call?” she asks.
“You hate calls.”
Scarlett adjusts the rearview mirror so she can see me behind her. “I think I would’ve liked one from you.”
An unusually long silence lapses. She shifts her eyes back to the road.
“What’s your mile time at?” she asks.
I know she’s going somewhere with this, but what?
“Six ten.”
“How many push-ups in a minute?”
“Forty-five. You?”
“Five fifty-nine and thirty-six.”
